


Dark angel

by Claire_Van_Pelt



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Character Death, Coma, Comfort, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire_Van_Pelt/pseuds/Claire_Van_Pelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season 4.<br/>A few months after the Underwoods won the election, the President's health deteriorates quickly, until he’s rushed to the hospital with terminal liver failure.<br/>He meets again with an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark angel

**Author's Note:**

> This short little thing is my first fic, ever, and it's the first time I post here. And english isn't even my mother tongue. But I guess I thought that fandom could use some new blood! So be indulgent, and please leave feedback!

Frank opened his eyes. The room was bright, white, empty. He was lying in his bed, white pillow, white sheets, but all the machines were gone. No nasal cannula, no cardiac monitor, no perfusion to restrain his movements. He felt lighter and younger than he ever had in the last five years. Hell, he could swear his hair was brown again.  
He turned his head on the left, and he saw him. He was there. Of course he was there, sitting on a chair against the wall, looking after him. He wasn't even surprised.  
"Meechum?"  
"Sir?"  
"Edward, come here."  
The man stood, walking slowly to come and sit down next to his bed. He was as Frank always remembered. A tall, lean, dark silhouette, dark hair and dark eyes and milky skin, handsome features composed in a calm and intense expression.  
Frank felt a wave of emotion washing over him. How he had missed him, his thoughful, reliable friend.  
Frank raised his left hand from the bed, fingers spread, palm facing the younger man. A second later Edward mirrored his movement, placing his right hand against Frank's, a shy smile on his lips.  
Frank let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, slowly shifting his hand so their fingers intertwined in a firm grip.  
Maybe the lonely days were over at last. Maybe this was the final lesson. What was the point of being the most powerful man in the world, if you could relate to no one? Claire would have what she fought for so fiercely, wasn't it all for the best?  
Frank couldn't get his eyes off of his friend's face. He couldn't help a smile of his own. He felt at peace. When he spoke again his voice was clear, strong, commanding as ever.  
"Meechum, what does it feel like?"  
"What, Sir?"  
"Death. Is it cold? Does it hurt?"  
"Not one bit, Sir."  
Frank nodded his head slightly. He let both their hands rest on the bed.  
"Will you be there?"  
"I will, Sir." And from the unwavering look in Meechum eyes, he knew he could trust him.  
"Good."  
As Meechum slightly leaned over him, Frank reached for his face, tentatively tracing his fingertips over closely shaven skin and delicate bones. When Meechum bent further down, he welcomed him gladly, soft lips and tongue pressing against his own with infinite gentleness. And with his lover sucking his last breath out of him, it was easy to let everything fade away.


End file.
